


Dress For Success!

by danceswithhamsters01



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Dress Up, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins Quest - The Landsmeet, Scars, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 18:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: The time is drawing near for Ferelden's Landsmeet, where the bannorn will determine who will take the throne! Leliana points out that Sevarra, who will be acting as Alistair's voice at the meeting, needs to make the right impression. That means dressing the part!





	Dress For Success!

“NO! I am not wearing those… those… things!”

Her friend gave a pout and waved them in her face. “But look at them! They’re so beautiful! The heels are delicate and they have these dear little pink bows over the toes! You’d make quite the impression in them!”

The mage grumbled. “Yes, I’d make the quite the impression alright, _as I fell down in front of the entire Landsmeet and broke my ankles!_ What’s wrong with my boots? They’re sturdy! Giving them a nice shining should be sufficient!”

Leliana wrinkled her nose. “Sturdy, yes. Fashionable? Most decidedly not. You need to impress these nobles, make them want to hear your side of things, my friend. Nobles respect fashion, one way or another.”

“But I’m a mage! I don’t have any need for these fancy things! Hell, I’m not even an actual person to most nobles! Why should I care what they think about me?! Give me supportive shoes and a nice set of robes and I’m content!”

Leliana straightened herself, rising to her full height. “All the more reason you need to impress them. If you do something better than them in their own game, they have to respect you, they’ll have to listen to you. A man in rags yelling about the end of the world is rightly written off as a crazy person. Most people will look twice when a well-dressed woman, along with the army she’s gathered, says the same thing.”

Sevarra pouted. Pouted! And then she crossed her arms. “I am NOT wearing those shoes! I’ve never walked in something with a heel like that in my whole life!”

The former lay-Sister sighed and set the shoes down. “_Fine._ But the rest of your attire has to be carefully considered. It has to speak of power, of being well-informed. This,” she gestured to the green and gold robes that needed repairs and cleaning hanging from a peg on the wall, “simply will not do. Not at all.”

“Well, it’s either that or my armor. What’s wrong with my armor?”

“The armor serves a purpose: protection. It does that well, but it won’t be helpful for this mission.”

The mage furrowed her brows. “But Alistair’s going to wear _his_ armor to the Landsmeet.”

“Yes, and it will make the right impression. He’s a warrior and would-be king. You aren’t a warrior. You’re his voice. We both know the poor man would trip over his tongue if we made him make more than a short statement. The impression you make has to be a different one,” the red-head said.

“Well, I wasn’t given all that much time to pack before I was taken from the Circle. My wardrobe is quite… limited. Such a pity. I guess I’ll wear my armor, then,” the mage smirked.

“Oh no, you don’t! I went digging in the estate’s wardrobes. I found some of the Arlessa’s things stowed away! At least one of them is bound to work!” Leliana grinned.

Sevarra whimpered. _This __i__s going to be a long afternoon, __is__n’t it?_

Before she could utter a word against it, Leliana grabbed the mage by the hand and led her from her quarters. “It’ll be fun! Think of it as shopping without having to spend any coin!”

“But, I’m not sure Lady Guerrin would appreciate my rifling through her things!” the Warden offered as a lame protestation.

“She’s not here to protest it,” the red-head said with a grin, still pulling the smaller woman along toward the other end of the estate and closer to where Isolde’s wardrobe stood unguarded.

“Won’t the Arl find my parading around _in his wife’s clothing_ at least a little bit strange?_”_ the mage asked.

“It’s for a good cause, I’m sure he’d understand! Besides, you’re not stealing it, you’re just… borrowing it!”

“Without asking first,” the raven-haired woman grumbled. The whine only drew a laugh from her companion.

She was dragged down the hall away from the guest quarters and toward the kitchens. She spotted Zevran and mouthed a silent _“Help me!” _at him. He only laughed and shook his head. _Traitor,_ she thought with a huff. After Leliana and palmed a couple of the rolls the cooks were letting cool, the trek was resumed. Soon enough, the pair found themselves in the part of the residence seemingly reserved for the arl and his family. Next door to one of the bedrooms was a spacious dressing room, with cedar-lined chests of drawers and armoires that held a generous amount of clothing, sorted by seasonality. A three-paneled mirror hung next to where a cherry wood vanity was sat, its surface bare of any of the combs, brushes, or cosmetics that would typically adorn it.

The door clicked shut. Leliana had a gleam in her eye. “Now,” she said with a grin, “we begin.”

The first candidate, dug out from an oaken armoire, was a deep red affair with lacy ruffles at the hem, cuffs, and plunging neckline. The mage balked at showing so much skin, but Leliana wouldn’t hear it. “At least try it on! It’s such a lovely color!”

It was quickly apparent that the Arlessa was a more “endowed” woman than the Warden after attempting to get that gown to fit. No matter what they did, the front drooped and went a good way toward her navel in terms of showing off her skin. Her scars were plainly evident. She shot the taller woman a look as if to say _I told you so._

“Find something else. I don’t like this one. I don’t like seeing those uncovered,” she gestured to her scars. “I like answering questions about them or pitying looks even less,” the mage said in an even voice.

Why did her hands suddenly feel so cold? She squeezed her eyes shut, took slow steadying breaths and forced memories of Ostagar out of her mind for the moment. Letting Zevran see her scars was one thing; he had plenty of his own, he didn’t ask questions about how she came by her “collection.” He gave them light kisses the same as the rest of her skin when they were intimate. Letting someone else see her marred skin was… stressful.

Leliana’s eyes looked… soft? She nodded and went digging in a chest of drawers after putting the red gown back where she’d found it. The next contender was a mass of ruffles interrupted by the occasional bit of sunny yellow fabric.

Sevarra looked at herself in the mirror after struggling to get the dress on. She knit her brow and nibbled her bottom lip.

“What’s wrong?” the taller woman asked.

“I look like a giant daffodil,” the shorter woman replied.

“Now that you mention it, you do, sort of,” the red-head said with a laugh.

The mage couldn’t help but let a ghost of a smile curve her mouth in reply. The yellow dress was put away and another was dredged up from the depths of wardrobe at the opposite end of the room. She felt her breath catch as her eyes landed on it. It was more modestly cut than the previous two and its velvety material was in a deep green that brought to mind the forest in summertime. She marveled at how it felt against her skin as she admired herself in the mirror after putting it on. The outer sleeves gave way to great yawning cuffs, the bottoms of which went past her knees. Leliana’s smiling face appeared over her shoulder.

“I think… I think I like this one,” the Warden said after a pause.

“It is quite becoming,” the Sister replied, grinning.

“So, we’re done with this, right?”

Leliana shook her head. “Oh no, no, no, my friend. We still have to find accessories, little extras to catch the eye and emphasize your features. And the most important part: shoes.”

Sevarra bit her lip to cut off the whimper she wanted to let out. _This is going to be a long afternoon, after all._


End file.
